


Las Calaveras

by ultradaniblonde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, F/M, First Spanglish Fanfic, Fluff, Horseback Riding, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester Not Being an Asshole, Kidnapping, Mild Language, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV John Winchester, Possessive John Winchester, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultradaniblonde/pseuds/ultradaniblonde
Summary: While Sam and Dean are busy with Abaddon, John travels to Mexico to follow up on a tip from Garth who is concerned about multiple disappearances from a peaceful werewolf community. When he arrives he quickly meets Ana Luisa, leader of the Calaveras with a rescue plan of her own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Milton, Illinois**

“Garth, buddy slow down a second,” Dean urges. With a beer bottle in one hand and his cell phone pressed to his ear, he paces the dingy motel room. Sam glances up from his computer and frowns at Dean. “Okay,” Dean answers. “Okay,” he repeats. “No, man I know you would go, but with a kid on the way...” he begins. Sam can hear Garth through the phone, but can’t make out what he is saying. Whatever it is clearly has the hunter distressed. “Yup. I promise we will look into it. Well maybe not us personally,” Dean backtracks. “Garth!” he shouts. “We will send someone. We will handle it. You just focus on Bess,” he says trying to keep the edge from his voice. Garth’s frantic raving subsides and Dean tells him he will be in touch. With a sigh Dean ends the call and tosses his cell phone onto the queen bed. “We have a problem,” Dean tells his brother.

“What’s that?” Sam asks engrossed with the glowing screen, fingers still typing furiously.

“Garth keeps in touch with a community of _like minded werewolves_ in Mexico,” Dean says using air quotes while rolling his eyes. Taking another swig of his beer he continues, “He hasn’t heard from them in weeks and now people are going missing,” Dean finishes rubbing his brow in frustration.

“So what’s the problem?” Sam asks.

“He is worried, Sam, and we can’t exactly go check it out. We are up to our eyeballs in this Abaddon mess,” he says gesturing to the table covered in maps, newspapers and notepads with Sam’s chicken scratch.

“Send Dad,” Sam offers casually. 

“Dad? Are you serious?” Dean asks. “Look I am pleased as punch we are all kosher now, but telling the old man Garth is a werewolf might send him over the edge,” Dean huffs.

“Then don’t tell him,” Sam adds.

“Don’t tell … Okay Sammy, so I am just supposed to tell him what? That we have a case in Mexico and people are just disappearing and we think it is werewolves?” Dean scoffs.

“Yup,” Sam answers.

Dean sputters, “Fine. Whatever. I will call Dad,” he relents picking up his phone.

**Phoenix, Arizona**

John curses the cheap motel and wraps a threadbare towel around his hips as he walks out of the bathroom. Running another through his wet salt and pepper hair, he stares at his reflection thinking he needs a haircut and a shave. When his phone chirps, he tosses the towel over the desk chair and punches accept.

“Dean,” he answers.

“Hey Dad,” Dean says.

“Everything okay?” John asks.

“Yeah, Sammy and I are fine. Hey, where are you?” Dean asks.

“Arizona. Phoenix. Why?” John says his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Listen, Sam and I are on a case. We got a call from a friend. There might be a case in Mexico,” Dean explains.

“Yeah?” John asks.

“If you are in the middle of a hunt …” Dean begins.

“No. I actually just wrapped one up,” John says eyeing his bloody flannel sitting on the motel floor. “Send me the details. I will check it out,” John assures.

“Alright. Thanks,” Dean says eager to end the conversation.

“Dean,” John interjects.

“Yeah?” Dean says.

“You and Sam look after each other,” John lectures.

“Always do,” Dean says with a sigh.

He can practically hear Dean roll his eyes over the phone and chuckles as he stares down at the screen watching the call disconnect. Grabbing his canvas duffel bag, he begins packing eager to get on the road.

**U.S. - Mexico Border**

John sits in his black pick up truck in the sweltering heat when the stoplight turns green and he breezes across the border. Shaking his head in disbelief, he eases back into his seat after checking his map. With the heat radiating from the ground in waves, he should arrive before nightfall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Northern Mexico**

It is already dark when John rolls into the small town. Strings of lights hang across the narrow road. The heat has only slightly subsided, but there are people everywhere: men and women on porch steps talking animatedly, kids playing soccer in the street and young couples making their way towards the city center. Struggling to navigate the congested street, John pulls into the first motel he sees and grabs his duffel bag. After he books a room and checks the locks, he rummages through his bag and pulls out a denim shirt. Splashing cold water onto his face, he quickly washes up before changing his shirt and setting out towards the plaza.

At the center of the city, vendors sell fruit, corn, stuffed animals, t-shirts and beer while musicians pluck at instruments near a fountain. John scans the square, watching as children weave through the masses of people, screaming as they chase one another. At the edge of the plaza, loud pop music plays from a dive bar already filled with patrons. John slips through the crowd eyeing the motorcycles parked in front. The bar is teeming with couples dancing and groups of people chatting. Taking a seat at the back of the bar, John orders a beer and eyes the bartender carefully. When the band takes a break, he signals for the bartender giving her a sly smile. “Another beer,” he orders his voice husky and low. She eyes him before reaching into the cooler for a bottle.

“Vacation?” she asks pulling the bottle opener from her back pocket.

“Actually looking for a friend of mine. Heard some people have been going missing,” he says casually. She averts her gaze and pulls the cap off of his beer.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she says setting the bottle down in front of him.

When she reaches for the empty bottle John catches her wrist. “Any idea who might?” he asks.

She stares at him and just when John is sure she won’t answer she responds, “The Calaveras,” nodding to the large group of men and women in black motorcycle jackets.

“Thank you,” John says releasing her wrist. He reaches for his wallet and sets a twenty on the counter. She scoops up the bill and the empty bottle turning to help a customer on the opposite end of the bar. John takes another sip watching the group when he hears the deep rumbling of motorcycles.

A man and woman walk into the bar and are quickly greeted by their friends. As they make their way to the table, John watches the newcomers. With his black hair neatly combed to the side, rich walnut skin, and lean but imposing height, John estimates the man is close to Dean’s age. The stranger’s arm is casually draped over his girlfriend’s shoulders. Her white motorcycle jacket snugly fits her slender frame. She wears a loose blush camisole, the deep V-neck highlighting her bronzed skin. Her tight jeans accentuate the generous curve of her backside and black wedge ankle boots add to her height. Her hair is the color of honey and her tousled locks spill over her shoulders.

The young man exudes power and greets each person, either pulling them into a hug or patting them on the back. As they are offered a seat and handed beers, John concludes the young man is in charge, the sexy brunette his girlfriend. The two of them sit joining the conversation, the man’s arm still casually draped around the woman’s shoulders as she sits with one foot on the bench wearing an aloof expression. John swallows his last sip of beer and stands walking purposefully towards them.


	3. Chapter 3

Ana Luisa watches as the outsider stands. With a detached expression, her eyes sweep over his disheveled salt and pepper hair swept back from his face revealing espresso colored eyes and a tan weathered face with strong cheekbones. His thick beard only adds to his striking appearance. He walks across the bar leisurely, but she recognizes the strength in his wide shoulders encased in a wrinkled denim button down. His black jeans hang low on his hips and he wears work boots. His stature becomes more impressive as he comes closer. She feels her brother’s arm tense and turns to whisper, “Cálmate,” lips hovering over his ear as she glances at the stranger again.

Reina stops dancing and gives her a curious look. Ana shakes her head almost imperceptibly and the group continues their chatter as they cautiously watch the foreigner.

“Good Evening,” he says in a smooth voice while his dark eyes bore into her brother’s.

“Evening,” Miguel answers. He is sitting unnervingly still, but she can feel the energy coiled inside of him.

“Name’s John. I’m looking for a friend,” he says the words rolling off his lips.

“And?” Miguel taunts, clenching his jaw.

“Well, I figure nothing happens in this town without you knowing,” he explains glancing at her crew with an arrogant smirk before glaring at Miguel again. Realizing he hasn’t even looked in her direction, she brings her lips to Miguel’s ear. “I want to know everything about him. Now,” she demands in a harsh whisper.

Miguel stands from the bench signaling for his men to follow. She drapes her arms over the back of the bench; leg still bent in a completely relaxed position. John scowls at Miguel “Hey! I am trying to talk to you boss,” grabbing his upper arm. Miguel nods towards her, “She’s the boss,” he says before shaking John’s arm off and storming out of the bar.

She watches silently as John realizes he miscalculated. If it were any other a man a self-righteous smile would tug at her lips, but she has lived long enough to know this one is dangerous.

“Buenas Noches,” she greets with a cool expression, “Ana Luisa,” she states watching him carefully. Reina sits on the edge of the still empty stage, lounging as if she were catching up with an old friend. With her gun tucked into her waistband and brass knuckles in her coat pocket, there is no one else Ana would rather have present while she parlays with this stranger.

“John,” he responds eyes narrowing slightly as his eyes scan her face. With luminous skin, dark lashes and full lips, she is arousing and John ignores the blood rushing towards his lower body. 

“I am looking for a friend,” he continues pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He flips his phone open searching for the picture Dean sent him. Holding it out in front of her, she furrows her brow, eyes never leaving his face.

“You aren’t from here,” Ana says.

“No. I’m from Kan--, he begins.

“Then what do you care?” she says cutting him off. 

“She’s missing,” John says with a scowl.

“I can’t help you,” Ana says standing from the bench. Sensing their departure, Reina shifts sitting up and putting her hands in her pockets.

“Can’t or won’t?” John asks grabbing her arm, his large hand wrapping around her forearm easily. Ana’s glare is blood curdling and he releases her.

“Go home, John,” she warns with an arched brow before making her way towards the exit. As John watches her leave, he notices the white skull stitched into their jackets and snaps his phone shut.


	4. Chapter 4

John wakes up on top of the crumpled sheets of the queen bed. After leaving the bar, he quickly discovered the wheezy air conditioner in his motel room was in need of repair.  Left with only the ceiling fan and cool breeze from the window he left open, he groans rolling onto his back sweat covering his neck and chest. Running his fingers through his hair, he deliberates over his encounter with the Calaveras. There is something about last night that bothers him, a nagging sensation he can’t ignore. Telling himself it has nothing to do with the flashes of glistening skin hidden under Ana Luisa’s jacket, he hoists himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

John welcomes the cold water, showering before he dresses in jeans and a black t-shirt. Rummaging through his bag he pulls out a small steel box. After lining up the numbers, he hears a click and the top pops open. Grabbing the FBI badge he closes the box, tucking it back into the duffel bag. Checking to make sure his belongings are out of sight, he flips the door hanger to “Do Not Disturb” and heads for the police station. 

“You said your name was Detective Martinez?” John asks glancing around the busy police station. The office is filled with uniformed police officers: filling out paperwork, booking perps, checking their routes and drinking coffee. A young man with light brown hair and brown eyes answers, “That’s right,” arms crossed skeptically over his chest. “Tell me again why the FBI is interested in this case?” he insists. “This is more of a personal favor. A friend of mine asked if I could take a look, in an unofficial capacity of course,” John says with an easy smile.

Temporarily mollified, the man uncrosses his arms and leads John towards the back of the building. “Six girls in the last three months,” he begins gesturing to a stack of folders on his desk. “Missing persons reports filed on all of them and then nothing,” he says rubbing his mouth. “It’s like their families were just going through the motions,” he finishes with a sigh. John picks up a case file and begins thumbing through it. “You read Spanish?” the detective asks skeptically.

“Enough to get by,” John answers absently. “You have a room or extra desk I can sit at?” he asks after grabbing the rest of the pile.

The detective’s eyes narrow in annoyance. “Yeah. Sure,” he says leading John down a corridor before opening the door to a small office. “This room’s free for a few hours,” he shares.

“Thanks,” John says setting the case files down on the table. “Oh and maybe some of that coffee?” John requests with a grin.

The detective clenches his jaw. “Sure. I’ll get right on it,” he says tersely. A uniformed officer drops off a cup of coffee and John spends the morning reviewing missing persons reports. A picture of each girl accompanies the files and he stares frustrated at his inability to piece together their connection. When the door opens he is surprised to see Detective Martinez in the doorway. “Find anything?” he asks.

“Not yet,” John shares stuffing the pictures into each folder before handing the detective the stack. John walks towards the exit quickly just as Detective Martinez interrupts, “You will be sure to call if you find anything,” he says firmly.

“Of course,” John says before pushing the door to the police station open and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Walking back towards his motel, John turns down a side street when a young boy bumps into him. John immediately checks his pocket and realizes his wallet is missing. “Hey!” he shouts chasing the young boy down the street. He follows the boy down an alley realizing he has him cornered. “Just give me back the wallet and can go our separate ways,” he advises. Suddenly the roar of motorcycles is almost deafening and John furrows his brow in confusion staring at the relaxed young boy. “What the hell is goin--,” he begins before a canvas bag is slipped over his head and he is tossed into the back of van.


	5. Chapter 5

The floor rattles as the driver shifts gears and the van begins its bumpy ascent. John tests the plastic zip-tie restraining his hands behind his back.  With no slack, he leans his head back against the wall of the van internally cursing.  Twenty minutes pass before he is hauled from the vehicle. His kidnapper places one hand on the back of his neck, the other gripping his wrist. Roughly pushed up a set of stairs, sweat begins to pool at his temples before he is shoved into a chair. 

The bag is removed from his head and he takes a deep breath inhaling the fresh air. The sunlight is blinding and he squints his eyes averting his gaze. When he looks up from the tiled marble floor, he finds Ana Luisa leaning against a large mahogany desk staring at him. She looks completely relaxed and wears the same impassive expression. 

Reina stands to her right with her hands tucked into her black leather jacket. Miguel stalks towards John. “Enough of these games. Who are you really?” he asks shaking the FBI badge at him admonishingly. 

“John Winchester,” John answers with an angry expression.

"Then why do you have an FBI badge that says Brian Johnson?" Miguel asks tossing the badge into John’s lap.

Reina’s eyes slide back and forth between Miguel, John and Ana as she threads her fingers through her brass knuckles.

“I told you. I am looking for a friend … those missing girls,” John says in an even tone trying to keep the exasperation from his voice.

“Why do you give a shit about some missing girls?” Miguel asks beginning to lose his patience.

"Someone asked me to look into it... a favor. Why do you care? Their bodies stuffed in a closet around here somewhere?" he says glancing around the room. 

Reina’s eyes widen at the thought and Miguel runs his fingers through his hair in irritation. “You think we murdered those girls? You don’t think we have our own plans for finding them?” Miguel shouts. 

“Miguel,” Ana Luisa warns softly.

“You are going to get yourself killed stepping in the middle of this shit,” Miguel threatens.

“You know who took them,” John says tearing his gaze away from Miguel, eyes landing on Ana. “That is why you want me out of the way. You know who has them and you are going to get them back,” he repeats searching Ana’s face for confirmation. He receives none, but continues nonetheless. “You don’t understand. Whoever took them could be dangerous,” John urges.

“We plan on it,” Miguel answers with a smile.

“No, Damnit. They could be werewolves,” John says shaking head the words sounding ridiculous.

“Los Lobos? Werewolves?” Reina says uncertainly.

“I told you that is just a rumor! Ana, I have been watching them ever since you asked. It is nonsense. They are just men,” Miguel assures.

“You will get yourselves killed! You’ll risk the lives of everyone you send after them. Let me prove it,” he says angrily pulling uselessly against the restraint at his hands.

Agitated, John watches Ana’s expression. Her eyes flicker to Miguel and narrow slightly. She crosses her arms over her chest before turning to Reina. “Take him back,” she orders. Reina dips her head in response and reaches for the canvas bag. John’s heart hammers in his chest as she slips it over his head. He is swiftly ushered back to the van and deposited in the back. John waits until the engine turns and then begins counting.

Hours later Ana walks into her bedroom and strips of her leather jacket tossing it on the bed. Stepping out onto the terrace, she inhales deeply staring at the forest, the dense woodland at odds with the rest of the desert region. Stepping back into her room, she removes her white shirt and walks towards the side table. Sensing another person in the room, she slowly opens the drawer and reaches for the knife inside. In the space of a breath, she whirls on the intruder jamming her forearm against his throat bringing the knife level with his eye.

“John? What the hell are you doing here?” she asks with an expression of outrage and disbelief.


	6. Chapter 6

Tucked in the foothills of a low mountain, John waited until dusk before trekking back to the sprawling mansion. A quiet breeze blows through wide archways and the marble floors gleam as he creeps down a corridor. John looks over his shoulder before gently testing an ornate door handle. Slowly entering a handsomely furnished room with wood paneling, he turns to leave just as he hears footsteps. Wedging himself between the wardrobe and the wall, he watches Ana Luisa walk into the room and toss her jacket onto the bed. Stepping out onto the terrace, she sighs deeply before pulling her shirt over her head and shaking out the loose waves of her amber colored hair. John drags his eyes over her sun kissed back and the gentle slope of her shoulder blades. Her tiny waist flares into soft curving hips and the dip of her lower back shimmers with sweat. Before he can blink, she has her forearm pressed against the base of his throat and a knife dangerously close to his right eye.

“John? What the hell are you doing here?” she asks with an expression of outrage and disbelief.

John focuses on her face instead of the blade centimeters from his eye. “You are going to check out that other gang,” he rasps.

Slightly easing the pressure on his throat, she asks “And why would I do that?” her brows furrowed in anger.

“Because you need to be absolutely sure if you are going to send your men in there,” he says resolutely.

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?” she repeats eyes drilling into his.

“I am going with you,” he says meeting her gaze. She releases him and tosses her knife onto the bed as John takes a deep breath and leans against the bedpost. Completely at ease in her plunging black scalloped bra, she opens the wardrobe and plucks a top from a hanger. Sliding on a black mesh long sleeve shirt, she picks up her jacket. “Fine,” she answers.

The motorcycle reverberates underneath them and John tightens his grip on Ana’s waist resisting the urge to sink his fingers into her hips and pull her further into his lap. They speed down the winding road finally making it back to town. “You said we need to make a stop?” she prompts.

“This will just take a minute,” he says as they walk into his motel room. Rummaging through his duffel bag, he pulls out a steel box and quickly unlocks it.  Ana sits on the flimsy desk with her feet planted on the chair watching as he retrieves a gun and two needles. “Silver nitrate,” John says glancing up at her. Setting the gun and needles on the bed he stows the box before pulling his black t-shirt over his head. He digs through the duffel and pulls out a gray t-shirt pulling it over his chest. “An injection of silver nitrate into a werewolf's blood is lethal. One quick prick and you will have all the proof you need,” he explains as Ana coolly observes the tattoos covering his thick biceps and the dark hair covering his chest.

John slides on a black leather jacket tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans and carefully sliding the needles into his jacket’s inner pocket. “Ready?” Ana asks reaching for the doorknob.

“Just a second,” John answers placing his right hand on the door causing it to slam shut. Ana can feel him standing behind her trapping her between his body and the door.

“This…” he says wrapping his left arm around her waist pinning her against his chest before digging through her jacket, “has to go,” he says pulling out a large pistol with a phosphorescent handle and tossing it onto the bed. “The coat too,” he insists. With his arms no longer trapping her she turns to stare up at him with a clenched jaw. Shrugging out of the coat she warns, “You’re in charge, jefe,” lashes fluttering in irritation as she shoves the jacket at his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

After divesting Ana of her white leather jacket and gun, John insisted they take his black pickup truck. Ana and John pull up to the club watching as people spill over the sidewalk and onto the street. John curses before turning into a vacant field filled with parked cars. Spanish dance music blares and a strapping bouncer stands in front of the door facing a line of people waiting to enter. As she walks towards the entrance, the security guard scans Ana’s hourglass figure, eyes lingering on her tousled hair and apathetic expression. Gesturing for her approach, she cuts the line as John follows closely behind.

“¿Hay una fila?” she asks.

“¿Para ti? No. Tal vez cuando el viejo se va a dormir puedo poner una sonrisa en esa cara bonita,” he says with a cocky smile.

“Quizás,” she responds as he pushes the door open, the music growing louder. The inside is dim save for strobe lights mounted on scaffolding near the ceiling. A DJ mixes tracks on a stage in front of a crowded dance floor and people jostle towards the rectangular bar where women in skimpy gold body suits take drink orders. Booths with low tables line the perimeter as people lounge in cushioned seats.

Ana begins to scan the bar while John takes a seat in an empty stool. Noticing her searching eyes, he puts his hands on her hips slowly pulling her between his legs. “Do you see them?” he asks his mouth pressed against the side of her face. She shakes her head slightly and he turns ordering a beer from the closest bartender. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he swallows and sets it down while inconspicuously skimming the crowd. “Go dance,” he orders. Confused, she glances up at him questioningly before noticing his expression. When she recognizes the predatory gaze of a hunter, she reminds herself he is in charge and walks to the crowded dance floor.

A young man approaches Ana pulling her into his arms and they begin to dance to the rhythm of the music. He spins her before reeling her back in, her hips rolling against his. She arches her back as he wraps an arm around her chest and pulls her hair. Spinning her back out, she runs her fingers through her hair as her hips continue to roll. She grinds against his thigh while he cups her face and shouts “¿Tu novio no le gusta bailar?” over the deafening beat.

“¿Mi novio?” she responds breathlessly. He nods his head towards John who is still sitting on the stool sipping his beer. A blaze of heat burns through her as she clamps her thighs tighter around the stranger’s leg.

“No es mi novio,” she assures.

“¿Estás seguro?” he replies with a skeptical expression. When she turns to look at John again, she notices a large group of men settled in a booth with a handful of women leisurely hanging off of them. Abandoning her partner, she returns to John. He silently follows her eyes to the group. “Meet me outside,” he says leaving her at the bar. Taking one last look at John, she makes her way towards the exit leading to the alley.

The door slams shut and cool air kisses her skin as she steps outside.  She looks around leaning against a dumpster waiting for John. When she hears a rustling from behind her she turns angling her body and raising her loose fists just under her face. Reina calmly stands in front of Ana, her hands tucked into her pockets. “¿Que haces aqui?” Ana asks staring at her friend.

“I know you better than you think,” she smirks just before the door slams open. A young man emerges with his arm pinned behind his back. John grunts, the syringe between his lips and forces the man to his knees. The first needle is stuck in the man’s neck and his expression is feral. With extended canines and yellow eyes, it lashes against John’s grip. Reina’s eyes widen at the man’s hands, fingernails transformed into claws.

“Reina…” you begin before John jams the second needle into the man’s neck just under the first. With a howl, he stops fighting and falls over.

John sighs before realizing Reina is present. “Hey Reina,” he greets. She stares at him horrified when suddenly the door opens and a second man emerges. Seconds pass in silence as he stares at the body of his comrade before shifting. Wild yellow eyes and snapping jaws glare at the three of you. Grabbing Reina’s arms you whisper, “Run,” sprinting towards the lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: 
> 
> “¿Hay una fila?” she asks./ “Is there a line,” she asks.   
> “¿Para ti? No. Tal vez cuando el viejo se va a dormir puedo poner una sonrisa en esa cara bonita,” he says with a cocky smile./ “For you? No. Maybe when the old man goes to sleep I can put a smile on that pretty face,” he says with a cocky smile.   
> “Quizás,” she responds as he pushes the door open, the music growing louder. / “Maybe,’ she responds as she pushes the door open, the music growing louder.   
> \--  
> “¿Tu novio no le gusta bailar?” over the deafening beat./ “Your boyfriend doesn’t like to dance?” over the deafening beat.   
> “¿Mi novio?” she responds breathlessly. He nods his head towards John who is still sitting on the stool sipping his beer. A blaze of heat burns through her as she clamps her thighs tighter around the stranger’s leg./ “My boyfriend?” she responds breathlessly. He nods his head towards John who is still sitting on the stool sipping his beer. A blaze of heat burns through her as she clamps her thighs tighter around the stranger’s leg  
> “No es mi novio,” she assures./”He isn’t my boyfriend,” she assures.   
> “¿Estás seguro?”/”Are you sure?” he replies with a skeptical expression.


	8. Chapter 8

Ana races, her arms pumping, feet pounding before she skids to a halt next to John’s truck. Suddenly John is at her side, heaving as the two of them crouch behind the car. When seconds pass and Reina doesn’t emerge, Ana stands, her eyes darting over the parked vehicles before landing on a slender figure hidden between gas-guzzlers. Just yards away from her motorcycle, Reina sprints when without warning the werewolf swipes at her back and she falls forward. Without thinking, Ana steps on the wheel of the monster truck, hoisting herself up. “Mira pendejo! ¿Tienes hambre?” she shouts, her voice carrying across the lot.

“Ana, what the fuck are you doing?” John yells.

“Get your gun ready,” Ana warns. Looming over Reina, the shifter turns attracted by his new prey. Ana stands on the truck bed watching as it stalks towards her. The sound of gunfire rings out as Reina lies on her shredded back releasing her clip into the werewolf. Blood seeps through his t-shirt, but he continues to advance. “Ana…” John warns.

“One silver bullet to the head,” she says confidently not even checking to see if John’s weapon is drawn. Done playing games, the werewolf rushes her with inhuman speed. In the span of a heartbeat, Ana closes her eyes and hears a shot from over her shoulder. When she opens them, she sees the werewolf hunched over the lift gate, blood dripping from its forehead. Jumping down, Ana rushes towards Reina as sirens wail in the distance. Pulling her to her feet, she wraps Reina’s arm around her shoulder, looping her own arm around her waist. “Loca,” Reina mumbles before her eyes roll into the back of her head. Ana stumbles under Reina’s weight just as John appears. He effortlessly lifts Reina into his arms and the two of them run towards the car. Yanking the driver’s side door open, Ana slides behind the wheel as John climbs into the truck with Reina’s unconscious body in his lap. Ana peels out of the parking lot towards the motel hearing the thump of the werewolf’s body fall to the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter! next one will be longer. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Ana slams the door to the motel room open. John immediately follows, setting Reina down on the bed before walking towards the bathroom. Ana rolls Reina onto her stomach and strips off her black leather jacket. 

She flicks her switchblade open and the sound of fabric ripping fills the silence as Ana cuts Reina’s blood-soaked top open. John returns with clean towels and scans Reina’s gory back. Grabbing a towel, Ana mops up the blood while John rummages through his duffel bag and pulls out a white metallic first aid kit. 

Ana examines the five gashes from the werewolf’s claws, frowning when she sees pieces of Reina’s top imbedded in her back. Spotting a pair of tweezers in the kit, she grabs them and carefully extracts bits of bloody cloth. Confident there is nothing else buried in the wound; she splashes disinfectant onto Reina’s back.

The heat intensifies the sickening smell of disinfectant and blood. Ana lightly dabs at the slashes again before tossing the towel to the floor and stripping off her mesh top. As she pulls her hair into a bun to keep it from falling in her face, she glances at the curved needle in John’s hand. John notices Ana’s stare and says, “You don’t have to do this,” with a grim expression.

Ana gazes at Reina’s unconscious form before slowly taking the needle from his hand. Sweat drips down her back as she bends over Reina, piercing the skin of her back with the needle before sewing the flaps shut. Ana ties off the stitches and rethreads the needle before moving to the next gouge. Almost an hour later, ugly inflamed sutures mar Reina’s back but the lacerations are closed and the bleeding has subsided.  Taking a large pad of gauze from the kit, Ana tears pieces of medical tape with her teeth before affixing it to Reina’s back. Finally finished, Ana grabs a dirty towel and tries to wipe her bloodstained hands clean before gently gathering Reina’s sweaty hair from the back of her neck in an attempt to keep her comfortable.

With her hands still red with blood, she collects the towels depositing them onto the bathroom floor before easing herself onto the bed. Ana leans back against the headboard and closes her eyes before inadvertently falling asleep.

John repacks the first aid kit and sets it on the desk. He checks the lock on the door before digging through his duffel bag and reloading his gun. When he turns around he finds Ana fast asleep. Curled on her side facing Reina with one hand under the pillow and the other curled to her chest, John is reminded of how young she is. Feet propped up on the desk, arms crossed over his chest and loaded shotgun at his side, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

The sun begins to rise and Ana wakes sensing Reina stir next to her. Blinking sleepily asks, “¿Cómo te sientes?” noticing her friend’s pale face.

“¿En serio?” Reina whispers with an icy expression.

“Pensé que serás más ligero con todo eso cumbia tú bailas con Andrés,” Ana responds with a raised brow.

“¿Casi me muero y tienes chistes?” she says wincing as she rolls her eyes.

“No estaba preocupado La muerte sabe que no he terminado contigo todavía,” Ana sighs, rolling on her back before glancing at John. 

“¿Que vamos hacer, Ana?” Reina asks. 

“¿Con Miguel?” Ana answers. 

“Con Miguel. Con el viejo. Con los Lobos…” Reina says inhaling sharply as she tries to move. 

“No es tan viejo,” Ana says staring at John’s salt and pepper hair and thick beard.

“Por favor. Ya tengo bastante dolor. No me digas que crees el viejo es guapo,” Reina grits through her teeth.

“Venga. Necesitamos regresar a la casa y por ahora el viejo viene con nosotros,” Ana says resolutely getting out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Seriously?” Reina whispers with an icy expression.
> 
> “I thought you would be lighter on you feet with all that cumbia you dance with Andrés,” Ana responds with a raised brow.
> 
> “I almost die and you are making jokes?” she says wincing as she rolls her eyes.
> 
> “I wasn’t worried. Death knows I am not done with you yet,” Ana sighs, rolling on her back before glancing at John. 
> 
> “What are we going to do, Ana?” Reina asks. 
> 
> “About Miguel?” Ana answers. 
> 
> “About Miguel. About the old man. About the Lobos…” Reina says inhaling sharply as she tries to move.
> 
> “He isn’t that old,” Ana says staring at John’s salt and pepper hair and thick beard.
> 
> “Please. I am in enough pain. Don’t tell me you think the old man is handsome,” Reina grits through her teeth.
> 
> “Come on. We need to get back to the house and for now the old man comes with us,” Ana says resolutely getting out of bed.


	10. Chapter 10

Squeezed between John and Reina, Ana sits in the black monster truck as they drive back to the compound. She ignores the pleasant sensation of being pressed snugly against John’s side with his arm leisurely draped over the headrest. Instead, she focuses on the vines hanging from branches crowding the narrow road. When the truck bounces over rocky terrain, Reina, clad in one of John’s shirts, crushes Ana’s hand. Ana eyes the beads of sweat on her friend’s forehead and asks “Do you remember the first time you met Andrés?” in a neutral tone.

“Yes. What about it?” Reina says tersely.

“What was the name of that girl he dated before you?” Ana pries.

“Estrella,” Reina answers through her clenched jaw.

“Are you sure? I thought it was Maricela?” Ana insists.

“No, it was definitely Estrella,” Reina asserts.

“Oh that’s right! She was an actress. All that blonde hair. Estrella,” Ana says dramatically.

“She was a stripper and her hair was yellow,” Reina says heatedly.

“So was she worse than his bike?” Ana prods.

“That bike was awful and I know what you are doing, Ana,” Reina claims.

“What am I doing?” Ana asks.

“You are trying to distract me from this mierda pain in my shoulder,” Reina explains.

“Is it working?” Ana questions.

“Yes. God, I hated that porqueria bike more than I hated Estrella,” Reina rants.

A smile tugs at Ana’s lips and John chuckles. Soon the expansive house comes into view and Ana’s smile fades. Reina reluctantly accepts John’s help getting out of the truck while Ana storms ahead pushing the doors to the house open. “Help Reina to her room,” Ana yells at the first man she sees. He eyes John’s baggy shirt and Reina’s pale countenance before springing into action, wrapping his arm around her waist. “John with me,” Ana continues weaving through the hall to her office.

Ana slams the door open before taking a seat behind the large desk, staring at the entrance. Unsure what she is waiting for, John folds his arms over his chest watching her with a confused expression. Less than a minute passes before Miguel emerges. “Ana, I just saw Reina. ¿Que paso?” he asks.

“Exactamente que encontraste sobre los Lobos?” Ana asks walking towards Miguel with her arms crossed over her chest.

Just as Miguel opens his mouth, the door crashes open and the young man from the bar rushes into the room. John tenses noticing his blazing eyes and the anger seething inside of him. “Carajo pendejo. ¿Que hiciste?” he shouts. Suddenly Ana is between them shoving his chest. “Andrés! ¡Cálmate!” she yells before he clenches his fist and draws his arm back. Before John can react, Ana ducks the blow and loops her arms behind his, locking her hands behind his neck. Finding himself in a hold, he thrashes against her before she drags him backwards knocking him off balance. “Enough!” she orders. His chest heaves as she releases him. “Leave. Now,” she demands. Andrés leaves in a hurry and when Miguel doesn’t move, Ana warns, “Tú también,” staring him down.

Alone in the room with John, Ana strips off her leather jacket flinging it towards the chair before walking towards the sideboard. She removes the top off of a decanter and splashes a dark brown liquid into a glass before tossing it back. After their encounter with the werewolf and stitching Reina’s back together, it is easy for John to see the exhaustion on her face.

With a frown he asks, “What can I do?” the words leaving his lips before he can think otherwise.

Ana sighs, closing her eyes, “I think it is time we introduce ourselves. Properly this time,” she says exhausted.


	11. Chapter 11

John approaches her cautiously assessing the dark circles under eyes and hands still tinged with blood.  “Ana, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you could use a shower. Why don’t you take one and then we will talk?” John says straightforwardly. Ana returns the tumbler to the sideboard setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Okay,” she agrees. “You can go make us some coffee,” she says with an arched brow leading him out of the office. Amazed how bossy she is, John shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lip. Ana walks down the hall and stops a young woman, gently resting her hand on her elbow. “Leticia, ensáñale a John donde está la cocina por favor,” she requests. 

Twenty-five minutes later John stands in Ana’s room. Hues of forest green compliment the dark wood paneling. The room is neatly organized; the only personal effect on display a picture of Ana and Miguel when they were teenagers. John holds the picture frame in his hands and stares at the photo. They sit on a rock; a picturesque view of a canyon behind them. Ana’s eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is wide open, the photographer catching her in the middle of a laugh. Miguel grins at the camera with his arm lazily around her sun kissed shoulders.

The door to the bathroom opens abruptly and Ana emerges. Dressed in motorcycle boots and jeans, her pants hang low on her hips. John’s eyes skim her flat stomach and strappy black sports bra. She towel dries her hair as she walks over to John. “Feel better?” he asks.

“I do,” she admits noticing the picture in his hands.

“You two look very happy,” he says tearing his gaze away from her back to the photo.

“That was seven years ago. It feels like a lifetime. Things have been…difficult…” she says quietly before turning away. Hanging the towel on a hook to dry, she rummages through her wardrobe and pulls out a t-shirt. It is faded and the sleeves look like they were cut off a long time ago. She pulls it over her head and runs her fingers through her still damp hair.

“Coffee?” John offers, gesturing to the carafe and mug sitting on the coffee table in between an armchair and sofa. Ana sits on the sofa, pours herself a cup and blows on the hot liquid before asking, “How did you know the Lobos were werewolves?” in a disbelieving tone. 

John puts the picture frame back and props his elbows on the back of the armchair, too restless to sit. “My sons and I are hunters. It is what we do. Save people, hunt things,” he begins.

“Things?” she asks her elbows on her knees, cup raised to her lips.

“Vampires, ghouls, werewolves. Dean sent me the case. He said people were disappearing and thought it was werewolves,” John explains. He watches Ana waiting for the moment she realizes monsters exist. She sighs before taking a sip of coffee, her face emotionless.

Frustrated at his inability to read her, he asks, “How did you get mixed up in this?” with a frown. Ana glances up at him and stares at him as if deciding how much to share. “Las Calaveras offer protection to local businesses from rival gangs. We don’t get mixed up in personal matters. Two weeks ago a man from a nearby village approached me. He told me six girls from his town had been abducted. Some of the residents tried to coordinate a rescue. Most of them didn’t make it back,” she says staring into her coffee cup. Seconds pass before she continues. “I made an exception. I asked Miguel to conduct reconnaissance. He is usually much better at his job,” she says, shaking her head. “We were going to make our move tonight. Obviously your arrival has required a change of plans,” she says staring at the dark brown liquid.

“The police reports said the women were from different towns,” John shares.

“They are all from the same town. The reports are wrong. I don’t know why they would say otherwise,” Ana says confused.

“Do you think they knew? That the Lobos are werewolves?” John asks.

“What?” Ana asks outraged.

“This town or whatever. You said most of them didn’t make it back, but if some of them did, it’s possibly they knew when they approached you,” John explains.

“They wouldn’t. They’re just farmers. Antonio said we were his last resort…” Ana rambles before trailing off.

“Regardless, If these girls were taken from this town we should go check it out,” John advises.

Ana stares at him, “How well do you ride?” she asks.

“I have driven a motorcycle a handful of times,” John answers. 

“Not a motorcycle. How well do you ride a horse?” Ana clarifies.


	12. Chapter 12

John sits astride the massive brown horse as Anna adjusts the stirrup. “Are there no horses in Kansas?” she asks, securing the buckle before giving it a tug and checking they are even.

“I was a mechanic with a wife and two kids before I became a hunter,” John replies wondering why he feels the need to explain himself.

“Does your wife hunt too?” Ana inquires pulling an apple from her pocket. John watches the mare peel back its teeth before inhaling the treat. Silence drags on as Ana affectionately caresses the horse’s neck, staring at John while she waits for his response.

“No ... Just Sam and Dean … My wife died when they were kids,” he finally answers.

“Oh,” she stammers lowering her eyes. “I thought … I didn’t…” she falters as the horse nuzzles her shoulder.

“It was a long time ago,” John says in a gravely voice. Ana turns towards a black filly prancing next to the mare. She places her left foot in the stirrup and swings her body up onto the horse. Slowly sinking into the saddle, she adjusts her positioning before taking the reins in her hands.

“The trail is narrow. We have to ride single file,” Ana says leading her horse through the trees. The conversation dies as they amble up a tight path. John watches Ana’s high ponytail swing back and forth over the collar of her white jacket and clings to the pommel.

When the trail widens a ranch nestled in a grassy pasture appears. An old man with walnut skin, cropped white hair and a pearl snap raises his hand in greeting. Ana slides off the horse looping the reins around a hitching post. “Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” Antonio says in a concerned tone.

“This is John,” Ana introduces securing the second set of reins to the post.

“Did you find the girls?” Antonio asks hurriedly stepping down from the porch. The thatched roof over the shady porch offers relief from the sun.

“We need to talk, Antonio,” Ana answers before Antonio gestures for them to enter. The house is small but clean, the terracotta tile floor and wooden furniture spotless. Ana sits across from Antonio, John shaking his head slightly deciding to stand. With her shoulders relaxed and hands folded on the table she begins, “One of the Lobos attacked my lieutenant. His fingers turned into claws and his eyes were yellow. She fired six shots into his stomach and it did nothing. The only thing that stopped him was a silver bullet,” she says scrutinizing his face.

He fidgets in his seat, eyes darting around the room. “You knew,” Ana whispers accusatorially. 

“Ana…” he begins.

“You knew and you didn’t tell me!” she repeats outraged.

“Ana! I have always known,” he shouts. 

“What?” she asks confused sensing John shift slightly next to her, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I knew the minute they arrived,” Antonio clarifies.

“How?” she asks disbelievingly.

“Because I can sense my own kind, Ana. I am shifter,” he admits.

Before she realizes, John hauls her out of her seat, pushing her behind him, hand hovering over his gun.

“What are you talking about?” Ana demands shaking her head in disbelief.  

Antonio glares at John, his hands firmly placed on the table while he remains seated. “We have lived here for four generations,” Antonio begins.

“That’s impossible. We would have known,” Ana interrupts.

“You did know. Your grandmother knew. She begged your mother to tell you before she died,” Antonio explains.

“No,” Ana whispers to herself. 

“It wasn’t my place to tell you, but I knew you would help, Ana,” Antonio entreats. 

“I made an exception! For you!” Ana accuses.

“Because you are a good person. You are strong. Those girls are tough, but they aren’t fighters,” Antonio says shaking his head.

“We need you to find them. Do you have any idea what that pack is doing to them? Why they only stole young girls?” he insists.

Ana shakes her head in denial, “No,” she cries under her breath.

“They are raping them, Ana. Using them for breeding,” he says heartbroken.

“No!” Ana insists pulling at her hair. 

Antonio balls his fist pleading, “I am desperate, Ana, but I know you will save them. You lead the Calaveras far better than your brother ever could. You are tough and smart and resilient. After everything that has happened to you …”

“Enough!” Ana interrupts tugging the back of John’s shirt desperate to leave.

“Are you just going to walk away? Leave those poor girls at the mercy of those monsters?” Antonio shouts.

“Damn you, Antonio,” she says before rushing down the porch steps and racing towards her horse.


	13. Chapter 13

Staring up at a sky so breathtaking it hurts, she clutches the filly’s saddle. Ana’s hair floats in the wind as a gentle breeze rolls across the grassland. Gripping the leather, she closes her eyes while a spectrum of emotions courses through her: anger, heartache and loss. The sound of boots against the hard ground lets her know John has emerged from the house. Minutes pass in silence before he sighs, “I had a nice life before a demon killed my wife,” he says before pausing. “There was no hunter there to save her and I didn’t know what I know now,” he continues his voice distant and hard like a confession.

Ana’s fingers begin to uncurl from the saddle as her anger subsides replaced with sympathy for a man she never knew. She stares at the open plain not yet ready to face him. “Ana, I just met you, but I get the feeling life for you hasn’t been nice. Not for a while. You have the chance to do something about it though, even it if it is for someone else,” John adds.

Ana turns abruptly, “You hunt monsters! These shifters… you are willing to risk your life for them?” she asks disbelievingly.

John runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know…. Antonio said his pack has lived here for over one hundred years. They eat cow’s hearts and have families,” John says shaking his head in disbelief.

“If what Antonio says about the Lobos is true, those girls will be better of dead if we don’t save them,” John says grimly.

Ana squeezes her eyes closed, “We can’t leave them,” she admits, “This is my fault though. I won’t force my men to risk their lives,” she concedes.

“Then we go, even if it is just the two of us,” John says giving her a grave look. He stares at her honey colored hair shimmering in the sun. Her long thick lashes fluttering over her cheekbones. Her small, but plump peach colored mouth. When he glances back up at her toffee colored eyes, he finds her watching him.

“Together,” she agrees. John internally chastises himself as she turns away and detaches the reins from the post. “We should get back,” she says handing him the straps before unhooking her own and mounting her horse.  

The ride back is silent, both John and Ana preoccupied with their thoughts. Ana deliberating how she will maintain her role as leader now that her world has changed and John wondering when his physical attraction to Ana turned into something more.

As they approach the hacienda, Ana interrupts John’s thoughts, “We need a new plan. The smash and grab won’t work. Not anymore. We can scout out their hideout tonight and tomorrow I will ask for volunteers,” she rationalizes.

Before John can respond, Ana spots Miguel near the stables and takes off in a gallop. Catching up to her minutes later, he hears them arguing. “Casi nadie te ha visto desde que el viejo apareció,” Miguel shouts.

“Los planes han cambiado. Lo explicaré a todos mañana,” Ana says leading her horse to the wrangler approaching them.

“Ana, tu gente te necesita aquí!” Miguel yells. John leans his body forward and pivots out of the saddle landing with his feet on the ground. The mare ambles towards the filly as John makes his way to Ana and Miguel.

Standing in front of Ana with his back to Miguel, John whispers, “Ana, it is just reconnaissance. I will be in and out,” his hand on her elbow.

With a hardened expression, Ana glances at Miguel and back at John. “If you remember, I came here looking for werewolves,” John says stubbornly.

“I know. I know,” Ana relents. “Just be careful,” she insists taking a step towards him stopping herself when she is just inches away from him.

John leans down his lips hovering over her ear, “I’ll come find you when I’m done,” he whispers and with a nod of acknowledgement she follows Miguel.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to translate some of the larger parts of dialogue into English in the chapter notes. Hopefully that works.


End file.
